


That night with Elizabeth...

by Trekgloria



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9566621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekgloria/pseuds/Trekgloria





	

It was late, very late, and Elizabeth sent her letter early in the day, and Ross should have come to her hours ago. Elizabeth was a lost to understand this behavior of Ross. What was keeping him from coming to her? How dare he keep her waiting? Did he no longer care what happened to her? This waiting for him was intolerable. Surely learning of her decision to marry George, would be important enough, and if he cared for her, he would come and assure her of his intent to be there for her, offering his continued admiration and support of her. He must know how difficult her life was since Francis' death and how much she had come to depend on Ross. But if was not present and prepared to care for her and Geoffrey Charles, then George had sworn his love and willingness to care for both of them. If Ross could not be there for her, available when she needed him, then she had no choice but to marry George. And Ross would understand her need for a man to provide for her and her son. But, this waiting was beyond enduring. To keep her waiting during her distress was unkind. Surely this was all the evidence she needed to know she had made the right decision to accept George's offer of marriage. She waited in the parlor until late, expecting Ross to come. Finally, Elizabeth accepted that he did not care for her and made her way to her room far late in the night.  
Elizabeth's letter was the last affront to a series of days filled with disappointment, sorrow and pain. Now here at the end of the day, Elizabeth's letter telling him, she was to marry George Warrlegan, the man who tried to have him hanged, the man who all but ruined Francis, a man who demonstrated nothing but greed, coveting Ross' land, his family's name, and now even the woman Ross first loved. Why in God's name had Elizabeth agreed to this. Could she not see George did not love her, but only wanted to add her to his possessions. How could she be so foolish?  
Ross knew what is was to love Elizabeth, from the first time he saw her, through his time in the war, after his return, and even when she made it clear she planned to marry Francis, that love never really left him. And Francis had loved Elizabeth, and it was that love or more fear of losing her that nearly destroyed his relationship with his cousin Ross. But Ross respected Elizabeth's decision and loved Francis enough not to pursue her. Still, this marriage must be stopped.  
The ride over in the cool night should have calmed Ross. He had stormed out from Demelza, pushing her aside, refusing to listen to her pleas. He should have considered what to say, how to say it, but only the vision of George taking yet another thing he did not deserve fueled his ride.  
Elizabeth was incapable of making good decisions, that Ross knew. She possessed many graces, but the ability to decide for herself was not one. Initially, like a dutiful daughter, she allowed her parents to make her decisions, then Francis, and again her mother, but now it seemed she was turning to George and allowing him to decide for her. Again, Ross was finding it necessary to come to her rescue, protect her and Geoffrey Charles from George. Ross understood he must explain to her the folly of marrying George. Each time he thought of George taking Elizabeth, bile rose within him, bitter and repugnant.  
Why he still felt so passionate about her, Ross could not fathom. He had everything, Demelza, Jeremy, his home, the respect of those who depended on his management. Why did he still need to care for Elizabeth, why did he still want to be part of her life? As long as Francis was alive, the desire laid buried, he would not betray that bond. But since Francis' death, Elizabeth had seemed to need more of his time and attention. When he failed to be there, she turned to George. This was perhaps his fault, he failed to be there when she needed him.  
Ross needed only to present his argument against George, and Elizabeth would realize this was an ill conceived plan. He must assure her of his continued commitment to helping her manage the day to day affairs, to be there when she needed him. Elizabeth would see, she was not just a widow, but now a Poldark, adding that ancient name to her own, and holding the lands for Geoffrey Charles. She was far above George; to marry him, she was allowing him to take that which he did not deserve. Again the thought of George bedding Elizabeth bringing such a pollution to the name of Poldark, and the memory of her, the young girl whom he first loved spurred him on. It was the young girl whose memory of a promise for a future empowered him to survive the war, the prison camp, the journey home. That was the power Elizabeth held over Ross, that vision which had sustained him for so long, through so much. Ross could not allow George to defile that memory. Elizabeth must be protected. Tonight all those emotions coupled with the hatred of George fueled him to stop this marriage.  
Ross rode hard into the garden of the large house silhouetted by the cold moon. Arriving so late in the night Ross found the house dark and quiet. Demanding to be admitted, no one came to answer his shouts. Even this lack of access to his family's ancestral home galled him. That this house should be locked against him was intolerable and he kicked open the door. Elizabeth would answer him for this and all the other dishonors she would bring by marrying George.  
Taking the stairs, he quickly reach her room. This house, every corner was known to him. After the death of his mother, this had been the home with a family. His father barely provided much more than a house after his mother, Grace died. Years spent playing with Francis and Verity, always welcomed here, this house, Trenwith is where Ross went for family those many years ago.  
Elizabeth answered his knock at her bedroom door quickly. Suddenly Ross saw Elizabeth as she might have come to him on their wedding night. Her beauty was not diminished by the years since he went away, his return to find her engaged to Francis, her marriage, even the birth of her child, she had little changed. Looking at Elizabeth, Ross realized it was her eyes, always beguiling, always taunting him silently. She always engaged him with her eyes, her direct way of staring at him had been so exciting when he was young.  
Finding her in the bedroom, hair loosened, dressing gown on was a reminder of what might have been. If Elizabeth had honored her promises, if Ross had insisted he had a prior claim to her, then this would be another night of them as husband and wife. Though he failed then, he could not fail again.  
He started to explain her folly, point out the lack of understanding on her part. But, Elizabeth was not hearing him, instead she was offering to mend the rift between Ross and George. With each reason he offered she countered and defended her decision. Her arguments inflamed him more, was she determined to debase him, to destroy even the memory of what they once had. What did she expect from him, every decision about them had been made by her in the past, and he accepted them. But tonight he must overcome her arguments however he could.  
Like two animals claiming their territory, they argued. With each thrust and parry they moved closer as if their shouting was not being heard by the other. She insisted, she provoked him, she continued to hold him at arms length, yet demanding he do more.  
By now there were mere inches apart, and standing this close, Ross could smell her perfume, roses, heavy and cloying. This was an ancient reminder of their times together when both were young, before he left, before the war, before his father's death, even before Demelza. Their words spoke of George, but their meaning was intended for the other.  
Elizabeth could feel his passion, his breath hot on her face, his eyes locking with hers. This was a new behavior for Ross, usually she managed him with her glances and a few words. But tonight, Ross finally took the lead between them. No longer was it what he was saying, but the way he looked at her. If anything this new unsubmissive Ross was even more exciting. She challenged him, what could he offer her? And, to provoke him; he would not dare.  
With that taunt, Ross lost all control; he would, but so would she. Ross, beyond reason, pressed his lips on hers. At first she resisted.  
Suddenly, time parted, the years melted, he was the dashing young solider about to go off to war, and she the young girl he left behind, two young loves, not yet lovers. What was meant to be all those years ago, still demanded a conclusion. All thoughts of anything but satisfying this old desire disappeared. Anger fueled the lust, but the craving was not just for Elizabeth but a release from the pain of today and rage he could not master by any other means.  
With the first kiss Ross took from Elizabeth a strange sensation took possession of him. The need to master this feeling, to show Elizabeth what she had sacrificed all those years ago. To return to that time when both were young and discover if she had loved him as he imagined. Ross had been in limbo for so long regarding her feelings for him and even he for her. Ross raised her up and threw her on the bed, she gave a feeble attempt at resisting. But as he kissed her again, Elizabeth too felt the years between them gone. She was free of all considerations, to make decisions for herself, free to bed the man she had wanted, free to give herself to him. Tonight she would have what she so long desired, the man she gave up, the man she still loved and craved.  
Yet for Elizabeth this type of bedding was alien to her. Sex was never mentioned, never discussed, never a subject for women of her status. Elizabeth knew her role was to accept the advances and endure any requests a husband might make. That it might be enjoyable was not anticipated or required. As with Francis, Elizabeth expected Ross to attend to her body, to take what he wanted, to be satisfied with her, not by her.  
As he kissed her, Ross was consumed by a primal urge to finish this thing between them. He had loved her, that was true, and love cannot simply be turned off because it is not returned or fulfilled. Passion does not dissipate from lack of nurturing. Rather if not satisfied, it festers until it becomes a dark and desperate appetite with a hunger uncontrollable. Tonight that hunger demanded feeding. Only the physical act would ease this old grievance.  
Suddenly in response to his kiss, feeling his mouth, hot and open on hers, his tongue entering her, was a shock, something Elizabeth was not prepared for. In that moment all barriers melted. Elizabeth entwined her arms around his neck, opened herself to him. She accepted and reveled in his kiss. Elizabeth pulled him to her, but offered nothing but her presence in the act.  
In truth, this night when Ross first kissed Elizabeth, her initial response came not from her lack of desire, but rather her inability to control him and to understand the arousal that she experienced at his first kiss, his physically powerful touch. For Elizabeth the only time she ever experienced any sort of passion was when Ross attended to her. Those sporadic moments in time when Ross provided her with attention Elizabeth felt validated, but they were always carefully orchestrated, chaste encounters, brief, and impossible to go any further. Previously, she merely needed to be Elizabeth, the memory of that young girl, and Ross responded by offering her his constant longing.  
Something about his primal way of seizing life, both excited and scared Elizabeth. Ross was a fire that both warmed and threatened to consume her. In truth she was aroused by this man, more than any, he excited her. But her times with Francis were few before she became pregnant with Geoffrey Charles, and for many years after, she remained indifferent to his requests for and denied him her body. Even when she allowed Francis to bed her, Elizabeth believed it was enough to allow her husband her body, and she expected little other than doing her duty. All she knew of sex was passive acceptance, to acquiesce to the demand.  
Ross needed no conformation, he understood Elizabeth too well and the wait for this bedding was long in coming. But what Ross found was an Elizabeth who was soft, almost like a plum gone to long on the branch. Her skin, smooth, but without any resistance to his touch. He felt smothered by her perfume, but also intoxicated by the smell, reminding him of a past life.  
Quickly Ross, loosed his clothes to free his cock and ripped her dressing gown to expose her body. She lay there waiting to receiving him, but not having any instinct or experience of what else to do. Ross looked at this body now waiting for him to take her. Pale, slim, and submissive without the trappings of her elegance, Ross could not quite see her as his past muse. Her passive response did not inflame him, rather it surprised him. But, Ross was hard, and this aching had drawn his manhood tight, and he needed to enter her, to work to the release through this act. More like an animal in heat, he quickly found her opening and plunged in. Instead of reveling being fully consumed by her sheath, enjoying being enveloped by her, feeling her surround his cock, Ross was rapid in his thrusts. There was a hurried desperation about his act tonight with Elizabeth.  
Sex for Elizabeth had never been like this. That Ross was so different from Francis in how he took her--demanding, forceful, surprised Elizabeth in her pleasure of this. Always, Francis was slow to initiate their infrequent couplings, and throughout he politely asked if she needed anything, at the conclusion thanked her, and then left for his room for the rest of the night. After he would leave her, Elizabeth would lie there, believing this was the best way to ensure he was able to get her with child. But, eventually the need to wash his love making off of her overcame Elizabeth. Rising she went to the basin and carefully wash her loins and groin, removing the evidence of Francis from her body. Something about the smell after sex disturbed her. But, tonight, she would revel in the knowledge that Ross came to her, she would enjoy what he left in her, as proof of her power over him still. Elizabeth felt more of a virgin tonight than on her first night with Francis. Elizabeth had loved Francis at times. When he appreciated her, dotted on her, provided for her and Geoffrey Charles. Elizabeth was grateful and realized what her life was meant to be as wife and mother in her society. Francis could be attentive and grateful, qualities, Elizabeth found attractive. But, the passion and desire she felt for Ross before he left for the war remained and those feeling she never felt for Francis.  
The intensity, the lack of control, the wild thrusting, Elizabeth knew nothing of this sort of sex. With Francis it had been all about her comfort, he wanting to ensure he was gentle, not hurting or disappointing her. But tonight, Ross was not here to satisfy her. He was forceful, severe, and with each stroke he groaned as if an animal crying out in great pain. He squeezed her breasts but felt no need to suckle them. He wanted to reach release quickly, but was unable to achieve that point and continued to pound against her groin.  
Elizabeth was realizing the true power of sex with someone who was passionate, who instilled a want to be filled and taken, this was completely different from her past and it excited her as never before. If this is what Demelza enjoyed being married to Ross, she envied her even more. If this is how Ross came in, late at night, ripped her clothes aside, and immediately mounted her, she moaned at what she had sacrificed all those years ago. This was raw excitement, he was intent on reaching his satisfaction, and she who had known only chaste and completely compliant sex was suddenly feeling alive for the first time.  
Slowly, she realized she had to participate, not just wait for him to finish, but to enjoy it also as the woman he still wanted. And with that realization Elizabeth pulled his head down and drew his mouth back to hers, wanting him to kiss her again, feel his tongue seeking within her mouth. Hoping this was what he wanted, taking her, filling her, sliding into her, plunging deep within her. She began grinding her hips in response to his thrusts. Each time feeling him fill her deeper. The feeling of his cock inside her, his body on top of hers, his mouth kissing hers, fueled her desire. Finally she knew what men found so exciting during sex. This is what she lost all those years ago with the decision to let Ross go; passion, desire, a lover who made you enjoy and even crave sex.  
Within her groin Elizabeth felt a novel sensation well-up within her, something never before experienced. Elizabeth was about to experience her first time being relieved during sex, instead of waiting for the act to end.  
Such a strange sensation, one driving her to find relief from this constant pounding in her sheath. The feeling was demanding and without release, Elizabeth feared she would faint. She began to moan, almost animal like, to whimper, to softly beg for something, yet she knew not what.  
Elizabeth ached for Ross to relieve her. She need him to tell her he loved her, that he would take care of her, fix everything. But before those words she need to reach release. Elizabeth now panting, begging him, grasped him, arched her back and tried to hold him within her. But his thrusts were hard, fast, and pounding. She moaned and called his name, Ross, Ross, Ross. As if trying to say it to recapture all the times it should have been said these many years.  
Ross was still in turmoil. Making love to Elizabeth seemed far less different than his encounters with women like Margaret. Usually those encounters were quick, to the point, though no less satisfying. But, tonight the act continued far longer than with any of those women. The desire was there, the urge to take the woman he had loved, and surely his need to become one with her body was an ache he had held too long. But, release and filling her did not come as easy.  
Ross thought of those early days when he was in love with only Elizabeth, when every moment together was bliss, full of promise of what a lifetimes of tonight should be. How he should feel finally consummating his passion. But other, half formed darker thoughts slipped in, and these prevented him from finishing his coupling with Elizabeth so quickly. Finding that release through sex and complete the bond so long ago set in motion was not a simple act.  
Ross needed to find his way through this act he had begun. He needed to resolve this conundrum in his life, know if Elizabeth was who he needed, where he needed to be. He turned his mind to those early days, when they first met, her beauty, how drawn to her he was; the way she made him feel when they found alone moments together. His desire to always protect and care for her. What he felt when they would walk hand in hand, talk about everyone they knew, who was to be married, the next ball, totally inconsequential conversations. It was being with her that meant so much, discussing what they wanted for their future, the way she would gaze at him and call his name, how she smelled of roses, her laugh, her complete dependence on others for everything, making him feel so protective of her. But she made him feel alive, with her beauty, her youth, the way she looked at him as if he were the only person in the world. Each memory, especially the ones which he held so dearly while at war, watching others die for a wasted folly, while imprisoned, and returning home had held him safely, his first love.  
Even with all these memories he held about Elizabeth, he still could not find relief through sex. Something was missing, yet he knew not what that was. Ross realized she was no longer passive in his taking her, but now seeking to engage him, to kiss him, to meet his every thrust, she was moaning and calling his name. Raising her hips to meet each thrust, grinding herself against him. Realizing she too wanted him was the catalyst and finally he was able to spill his speed inside her.  
As Ross finished, so did Elizabeth achieve her first time in reaching a release that felt like an eruption. She gasped, shuddered, and moaned. The feeling was more than she could manage. With the sensation of her sheath contracting, squeezing, Elizabeth could feel Ross's cock being gripped by her and his seed filling her womb. This, this man, this act, this feeling she had sacrificed so many years ago was finally achieved. But, Ross had come to her, he had taken her, he would be there for her and make her his wife. Finally, she would have everything she had ever wanted.  
The culmination of events with sex left Ross exhausted. He rolled off Elizabeth and for one moment wondered what he had wrought with this. But to accomplish this had completely sapped his energy and Ross fell into a deep sleep. His dreams betrayed him, he felt alone, in a barren landscape, and full of despair. Phantoms of those dead flitted across his dreams. Each seem to point at him, turn their back, then move away from him, leaving him bereft of comfort. Sleep provided no rest or balm to his shattered life, just a darkness without joy.  
Elizabeth had remained awake for some time. She was without any map to guide her in this. Normally she waited for Francis to thank her and leave. But, this, this act with Ross left her wanting to be held in his arms, to be promised of a future together, to know that he did still love her, and would manage everything for her. And to take her again, to bring her that joy again. His finish of their love making brought her the greatest joy, but now even though still beside her physically, he seemed to have left the bed and left her on her own. She wanted to feel more of him, and pulled her clothes off, leaving her completely naked, and pulled herself close to him, trying to imprint her body against his, to feel him against her. She needed and wanted so much more of this man. As Ross slept, Elizabeth began to imagine what to do next. Perhaps once rested, he would rouse and take her again. That thought hung on her mind as she succumbed to sleep finally.  
Had it been minutes or hours, suddenly Ross was awake, but could not quite fathom where he was. It was still dark, but a faint glow was off to the east. Everything seemed out of place, nothing was as it should be. He felt the body, thin and almost frail clinging to his and rolled to see Elizabeth's face, partially covered by her dark hair. Suddenly time ceased, a cold feeling overcame him. The nights' events roused from his confused mind and slowly coalesced into a complete memory. He had taken Elizabeth in this room. The thought left him numb. Something about this feeling gave him pain, not pleasure. Rising gently he found he was partly dressed. He moved across the room, putting as much distance as he could from the bed, nay from Elizabeth. Adjusting his clothes, he could not bear to look at himself in the mirror. Suddenly he saw Elizabeth wake and look at him. Her countenance was that of woman who was about to ask for something. With the first syllable she uttered, Ross, answered, he must get away before others were awake, and her next unasked question, he must think, then when she needed more, he replied, soon. The first, he must get away before others were aware, was true. The second, he must think was equally true. Ross needed to think. What had happened, he knew full well, but how and why it had ached like a raw cut, fresh and painful. Crossing the room quickly, with a doleful look at Elizabeth, Ross was out the door and headed home. His home, the home he had made with Demelza.


End file.
